Fumble
by Shipperwolf
Summary: He made a decision and took the leap forward. She was apparently already waiting to catch him when he tripped over himself. Caryl, oneshot, directly follows 'Something Special'.


**Whoops I did it.**

**I wrote a sequel-ish thingy.**

**I went into it with one emotional mindset and somehow spilled into the complete opposite mid-way through, so...**

**Enjoy the ride?**

**As always, I disclaim TWD! Hope you guys like!**

* * *

_He spent the ride back taking it all in, coming to terms with what exactly had just happened._

_He couldn't turn his head to look at Rick. Not because he suddenly hated the guy, or even because he was angry with him (not that anger hadn't coursed through his veins for a moment, because fuck, he couldn't fucking lie to himself about it anymore, and he couldn't run away from it, and it had happened, the anger had happened and he knew exactly what that meant)._

_Daryl stared out the window and watched the old broken town pass them by, its crumbling structures transforming into flashes of green as they crossed onto the old highway. He couldn't look at Rick because when he did, he saw a man that was better than he was, by a goddamn long-shot, and deserved the gentle, strong, amazing woman that was Carol a hell of a lot more than he did, but had fucking stepped the fuck back from the whole situation in a matter of moments._

_Rick had told him without telling him that he wanted Carol._

_And fuck it all, the realization had been a semi-truck to his skull, and for a single second there he'd wanted to laugh at the man, and in the next second he wanted to beat Rick's weary fucking face in, and then, and then…_

_And then he knew "Ain't like that" was utter bullshit._

_And looking at Rick in that moment, letting the urge to challenge and attack run its quick course and subside, he blinked it all away and let the truth settle in his brain and he almost wanted to nod, to reaffirm the voice in his head telling him that it was a good thing, that Rick was a good man (the best, really, that he'd ever known) and he deserved Carol and she deserved him and that was just the way it was going to be…._

_Before Rick stepped into his space and backed down._

_Before Rick told him that Carol loved him, and he wasn't going to get in the way of that._

_And just like that, Daryl was left with a reality he couldn't escape anymore, and it was getting closer and closer with every mile they drove. _

_And by the time they reached home, he needed to decide whether or not he was going to embrace that reality or shut it the fuck down._

* * *

He stared at her like a fucking idiot.

She was in their cell, straightening the sheets and blankets of their bunks like they were going to be leaving their beds untouched for more than a day.

Daryl stood in the doorway, the privacy sheet half-draped over his shoulders as he watched her with an amused smirk.

"The hell you botherin' with that for? We're just gonna mess em' up in a few hours."

Carol paused her work to glance at him, a cool shrug to her shoulders. Meeting his eyes pointedly, she flashed teeth and chuckled,

"Because I'm old and I feel like this is something old women should do."

His smirk jerked upwards at her joke before falling as he took a step inside.

"Ya ain't _old_. Not even close."

"Have I told you how old I am?"

"No."

"Exactly."

He snorted and she laughed again. Daryl pressed a hand against the rail of the top bunk, stood just in front of her and jerked a thumb backward to the block,

"You see some of these folks we brought back from Woodbury?"

"_Don't be mean_, Daryl."

"Pfft."

She lingered in his space and smiled, and Daryl heard Rick's words in his head, the man's challenge for him to stop _knowing_ and start doing.

_And goddammit, Rick, this shit ain't easy. You got the fucking pretty eyes to woo with. What the fuck do I have?_

_And when the _fuck _did I decide to try and _woo_?_

"….You got a minute?"

She blinked at his question, her head tilting in that curious, amused kind of way that bordered on pissing him off. What was so damn funny about him sometimes? Was his _face_ funny? What the fuck was she grinnin' at?

"We do share this room, Daryl. I ain't goin' anywhere."

"Stop bein' a smartass, I'm serious."

"I know."

He balled his fists against a nervous growl and Carol slipped downward to sit on the bottom bunk.

Breathing deep, feeling his chest tighten and his gut turn over, Daryl followed, all stiff muscle and lit nerves.

He struggled to look her in the eye, but when he managed, the teasing mischief on her face has smoothed, her crystal blue eyes had softened at him and he knew she was done playing games.

_They were both done playing._

Another deep breath.

She smiled softly and he shifted back a bit before letting his mouth open to just fucking spill it.

"Rick has a thing for ya."

_Fuck._

"Fuck."

"What?"

"Nothin'. I mean…that's not what I was gonna tell you."

"I know."

"How the hell you know-?"

"No, I mean, I know about Rick."

"Oh…"

They paused and Daryl felt the room spin a little, and he reached up, fingered the metal of the top bunk's frame. Carol had leaned towards him, seemed to be trying to catch his straying eyes.

He closed them, hard, heard his heart slam into his head before cracking them open to try again.

"Rick tell you?"

"No…I just…sometimes a woman knows these things, is all."

She grinned, quirky, and he saw the sly mischief reemerge and he knew, right then, that she knew it wasn't just Rick. She knew exactly what he was about to tell her, and fuck fuck _fuck_, she'd probably known a hell of a lot longer than he fuckin' did.

_Women. Jesus._

"He thinks you're….special. Strong."

Another flash of teeth.

"He tell you that?"

"Yeah."

"What did you say?"

The thudding in his ears was so loud he swore he could barely hear her voice, his hand gripping the frame above was going numb and he hated that he'd made this decision, because now he couldn't step back from it.

He didn't like running away once he decided on somethin'.

And he wasn't a fucking coward.

"This…this ain't about Rick…"

"I know that."

"He cares about ya but he ain't gonna—"

"I know."

"You ain't just special to _him_…."

"I know…"

"Ya just know _everything_, then, don't ya?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She giggled. _Laughed_ at him.

He sneered and sighed and dipped his head, willing the swimming surroundings of the cell to slow-the-fuck-down so he could focus and do something besides mumble stupid comebacks at her and just as he made to squeeze his eyes shut again she started moving, scooting forward on the bed to bump her knee against his and lift her hand, and his eyes froze on her face as it craned so close their breaths mixed and smothered the air.

Very suddenly, the whole thing wasn't fucking funny anymore.

Very suddenly, Carol reached up to touch his neck and nudge his head forward, and slant her mouth against his so slightly that he thought he imagined it.

He fumbled over the kiss (just like he seemed to be doing with e_verything_ since walking up to their cell to start this messed-up conversation) and grunted into the silence that had quickly and heavily slammed over their bunks.

Daryl pulled back just enough to look down and realize his fingers had folded themselves onto her waist, and she laughed again, not at his expense, he knew, but at the sharp thrill that blazed between them as they both took in the moment that marked their friendship changed.

He drew his lips thin against a crooked, giddy grin, and she bent her head to tuck into his shoulder.

"Rick is very sweet."

He hummed at the whisper, her double-meaning not lost on him.

A kiss pressed into her cheek and he turned halfway into it to meet her eyes.

_Yeah, he really was._


End file.
